


The Science of Crime

by aj_novak98



Category: Forever (TV), White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9310361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aj_novak98/pseuds/aj_novak98
Summary: Neal hears of a robbery that occurs of an old handgun and the details of the case are a bit strange. In looking for a way to give the FBI the slip, he tracks down the man who was able to so easily disappear from a crime scene.Takes place in the middle of season 3 of White Collar (U-boat arc) and sometime before the series finale of Forever.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a regular day in New York by all counts. It was brisk and somewhat windy. Neal strode down the sidewalk with his usual swagger. Hands in his pockets, tight fitting suit coat buttoned and wavering slightly due to his pace. His crisp black fedora was balanced at just that perfect angle to complement his wavy dark hair and give his piercing blue eyes a mischievous look. He was feeling back to his old self now. The treasure of the U-boat now in his and Mozzie’s possession, he felt untouchable for the first time in so long. When he had been arrested and sent to prison, he had seen how helpless he could be and he didn’t like that feeling. Now, they had destiny by the short and curlys and he was no longer at the mercy of Peter and the system and the damn anklet. Neal moseyed into the FBI building right on time and ran into Peter in the lobby. He was glad to have Peter in his life but after the new developments involving the treasure, he knew that he would have to leave and Agent Burke might be forced to take him in again. There was too much on the line to tell him- he couldn’t risk having it all fall through his fingers, bringing Moz down with him. 

"We have a new case and this is an odd one” Peter said with confusion plain on his face.

“What makes this case so different?” Neal inquired, his interest piqued. 

“Evidently, someone stole a 200 year old handgun and when he was pursued, it looked like he was going to pull the gun on the guards. They fired and hit him centre-mass but when they went to where he fell, the body and the gun were both gone.” 

“This does seem to be quite an interesting case; do we have any leads?” Neal inquired, brandishing his trademark look of mischief. 

“No leads as of now, the only thing left at the scene was this old pocket watch.” Jones pitched in. How interesting Neal thought I need to get my hands on a disappearing act of this calibre. Neal took the pocket watch from Jones and looked it over with his skilful eyes. 

“Anything stand out to you?” Peter asked, to which Neal responded with a slight shake of the head and a shrug. 

“It looks like an old pocket watch, but its not a piece that I’m familiar with.” A slight misdirection is all. Peter is an excellent agent and he’ll get his man with or without me. Neal kept the image of the watch fresh in his mind through the day. The shop the gun was stolen from had almost no surveillance so there wasn’t much on that front, however the owner noted that the thief seemed conflicted about taking the gun. Also that he had been wearing a dark coat. Huge help there, thanks for narrowing the description. He wasn’t able to give anything to the sketch artist; the thief had been wearing a ski mask. At the end of the day, Neal made his way home, bidding Peter adieu. He opened the door to his immaculate flat to find Mozzie sitting at the dining table drinking wine, a very common sight. 

“We’re going to have to sell something in order to get the funds to fuel our grand escape. I think I have someone with interest in the Dega, thoughts?” Mozzie posited. 

“Its too soon. If we sell something now, the FBI, Peter especially, will be suspicious and you and I are at the top of the suspects list.” 

“Fine that makes sense, but we can’t stay long or we will be caught. We are still going, Neal.” 

“Of course Moz, no worries.” Neal said and looked away, pointedly worried. Neal then sat down and began to draw. He produced a very skilfully done recreation of the pattern on the pocket watch. It looked like a family crest with an ‘M’ in the middle of the shield. 

“Hey Moz, does this look familiar to you?” Neal questioned as he slid the paper over to his small balding friend. Mozzie adjusted his glasses and took a gander at the drawing. 

“Looks like the crest of an old English family but I don’t know the family off-hand. I do know someone who could track it down for you though.” 

“Thanks. I think this guy could provide some helpful insight into our current predicament. He seems to be an expert in the art of disappearing.” Neal went into the downtown offices of the Federal Bureau of Investigation the next morning, same as many mornings prior to this one. The day involved Neal ‘consulting’ on a number of insurance frauds and mortgage schemes while the big muckity-mucks discussed an actually interesting case. Peter called him in once but only to say that the robbery was going back down the NYPD. Evidently, the gun had been returned and had been accompanied with a sum of money to help cover any damages from the burglary. Needless to say most everyone was confused. Neal could tell that this case would be one of the ones that he knocks around often in that head of his. Always niggling in the background of his subconscious. Feeling satisfied with a day filled with uneventful paperwork, Peter decided that he would send Neal home a bit early for the weekend. Of course, Neal knew that it was so that Agents Burke, Berrigan, and Jones could discuss him and his alleged crimes. Namely, the treasure. Nonetheless, he was appreciative of the time and went to see what Mozzie had found on that pocket watch, which had obviously gone missing in the shuffle of evidence what with the case going from FBI to NYPD custody. These things happen, Neal thought deviously as he felt the pocket watch tucked safely inside his vest pocket. Back at home, Mozzie had some good information. 

“So my source was able to identify that the crest belongs to the Morgan family from back in England. That family didn’t appear to have any modern descendants but it looks like one member passed on the family name quite efficiently. A trail of Henry Morgan’s leading from the 19th century right until today, in New York. In your radius even, if you can believe it.” 

“Oh I could kiss you!” Neal exclaimed, “Give me the address, I am going there now.” 

“Okay, it’s a shop called Abe’s Antiques not far from here.” Mozzie said with trepidation, “Are you sure that this is a good idea? The suit’s keeping a close eye on you. Besides, I want to come.” 

“Moz, this is a calculated risk that I think is worth it. And you can’t come because of the first reason. If Peter really is close behind me, you ought to keep some distance when I do risky things so as not to get swept up in any potential charges.” Neal explained carefully. He walked out the door headed for Abe’s Antiques feeling good and looking up for the future.


	2. Chapter 2

“Abraham! Be careful with that, it was a gift from a patient. He was a deposed archduke from Switzerland and that pendant is from the private family collection.” Henry exclaimed in his most worry-filled voice. 

“I am always careful, pops. It’s a gift from you, I believe and all these years working with antiques has helped a bit,” Abe joked. Henry looked out the window and reflected over the past couple of days. Two days ago, Adam had finally caught up to him. He’d told Henry that the gun which was used to kill him had been located and it was up to them to take it. Henry had refused vehemently but that meant nothing to the older immortal. Adam had said, 

“I may not be able to convince you with words, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing I can do to motivate you in the right direction.” Henry had clenched his teeth very hard upon hearing this and didn’t even have time to think of a response before Adam hung up the phone. Henry looked around the crowded police station and suddenly felt so very alone. 

“What’s with the face, Doc?” Hanson asked casually. 

“Ah nothing of importance,” Henry smiled and waved away the notion. “Just lost in thought is all, detective.” Moments after he uttered those words, his brain was flooded with only one thought. ABE! “Excuse me, detective, I have some work to attend to.” He said as he rushed toward the elevators. Henry hastened to the shop as quickly as possible. He found the door standing open and a note which scrawled, 'If you want to see your precious Abraham again, you know what you need to do'. Henry fumed and yelled in frustration, sending whatever was in front of him crashing to the floor as he wildly swept everything off the register counter. He did indeed know what needed to be done. He had donned a black ski mask, and stolen the gun. Before he could make his getaway, however, he had been shot in the chest and died. He woke up in the Hudson and managed his way back home. The gun now in his possession, he contacted Adam and Adam took the opportunity to shoot Henry point blank with the old handgun. Much to the disappointment of the older man, Henry’s body disappeared upon death. With dismay, Adam released Abraham, with the gun, and went back underground. Now they stood in the shop, having returned the gun, which had not indeed been the gun used to first kill Henry. He sighed, blinked, and was preparing to go back to work when the bell above the door gave out a chime. 

“Hello,” chimed Henry. He turned to the man who had just walked in and saw a dapper fellow indeed. This man was immaculately handsome and dressed to the nines. Henry smiled his charming crooked smile and nodded at the customer. 

“Are you Henry Morgan?” the handsome stranger inquired. Perplexed and somewhat worried, Henry gave a worried, 

“Yes? What can I do for you Mr…?” 

“Ah. Neal Caffrey is my name, and not to worry, I'm here with friendly intentions, nothing sinister.” He said with a cheshire grin. Slightly more relaxed, Henry quested, 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Caffrey?” The younger man postured slightly and said, 

“Please, call me Neal. I am here just to ask you a few questions. First of all, is this your pocket watch?” Neal cocked his head to the side and dropped the watch from his hand, holding it at eye-level by the chain. Henry breathed an audible sigh of relief and reached out for the ancient watch. 

“Yes, this is mine thank you very much for returning it to me, Neal. But if you don’t mind my asking, where did you find it?” 

“Well that part is a bit more complicated.” Henry sucked in a nervous breath as he waited for the rest of the story. Does he know my secret?? He thought frantically. “You see, I am a consultant for the FBI here in New York and this watch was found at a very odd crime scene. Evidently someone was shot fleeing from a robbery but disappeared before he could be apprehended. The only thing he left behind was that watch.” Henry crossed his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrows. 

“That does indeed sound like a quite strange case, however I am not sure what that has to do with me as I misplaced that watch several days ago.” Neal gave a knowing look and continued, 

“Alright that’s fine, I am just glad to be able to return it to you, Mr. Morgan. I am not here in a official capacity in any case. I just wanted to be sure that this watch made its way back to the rightful owner. It is, after all, a magnificent specimen. Passed down for generations; I would posit that this watch is more than 200 years old and still ticking. You must keep excellent care of it.” 

“Actually, it would be Dr. Morgan but please, call me Henry.” He said and extended a hand. 

“Henry it is then” Neal said with a blinding smile as he shook the good doctor’s hand. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you know that the watch belonged to me?” Henry wondered with a hint of suspicion in his voice. 

“Your family crest is on the watch, it was a bit of a giveaway. I have a friend who traced the Morgan family lineage to you. Your family sure loves the name Henry and occupations in medicine.” Neal scoffed smarmily. Henry’s face twisted slightly as he wondered what this stranger knew. “Listen Henry, I’m not here to get you into any kind of trouble, I just want to know how you did it. How did you slip the police like that? That vanishing act could come in real handy for me.” 

“So, you tracked me down just to ask how I allegedly escaped the scene of a crime?” Henry asked indignantly. 

“Good job using ‘allegedly’ that’s a favourite of mine,” Neal smirked, “And yes, I just want to know how you did it. I help catch criminals and knowing an escape like that could possibly help to head off people fleeing crime scenes.” Henry began walking back towards the counter and said 

“Neal, I help to catch criminals too- murderers to be precise. I work with the NYPD as a Medical examiner as well as in a Sherlock Holmesian capacity, so that is why my watch was found at the scene. I was called in to consult, nothing more, nothing less.” He paused as he reached the opposite side of the counter and placed his hands pensively atop the wooden surface. At this Neal and Henry smiled the same smile at one another- both knew the other was withholding certain truths but they both also knew that neither was going to start sharing any time soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Suddenly, the silence was broken by the ding of the entrance bell and the men both jumped a little at the unexpected noise. Henry turned his head and broke eye contact with the younger man. He had begun to say “Hello, welcome to Abe’s Antiques” but he was stopped mid-sentence when he was met with the barrel of a gun, staring him down. Henry’s mouth formed a surprised ‘o’ and he feigned fear for his life for the benefit of his guest. The man holding the gun was of stocky build and he had a fair amount of stubble showing from beneath his black ski mask. Henry raised his hands and sidestepped to distance himself from the non-immortal. 

“What is it you want?” Henry asked calmly, with his brow furrowed. The attacker was unsteady on his feet, shifting back and forth, dripping in sweat, his hand with the gun shaking. He was clearly out of his depth and that made him all the more dangerous. He licked his lips and said, 

“I want all the money. From the register and from the safe. Move slowly and put everything in the bag.” He pushed a duffel bag into Henry’s chest and gestured for him to empty the register into the bag. Henry moved his hands slowly toward the cash and went to open the drawer. The drawer then popped open and spooked the already jumpy robber. This caused him to tense and the gun went off. The would-be thief panicked and fled from the store without taking any of the money. Neal turned his head quickly to look to his acquaintance and saw him standing with a look of shock and pain, his hands holding a spot on his chest. Blood began to leak between his fingers and he looked at Neal with nothing but fear in his eyes as he began to fall. Neal assumed that this fear was because he was bleeding and dying, but Henry’s fear came from the fact that this man whom he scarcely knew was about to watch him die and disappear. 

"Oh my god!" Neal rushed around the counter and caught Henry as he fell, laying the immortal down with his shoulders on his lap, his head near Neal’s abdomen. He looked down into Henry’s pained eyes and placed his hands atop the wound, applying pressure causing Henry to grunt slightly. Henry took in a raspy breath and groaned out 

“Do not call an ambulance and don’t tell anyone what you are about to see.” Neal dropped his phone in confusion and placed his hands around the dying mans face. His eyebrows were knitted together in confusion and worry as he pleaded, 

“Henry, you are absolutely going to die if I don’t call an ambulance! Please, what are you doing?” Henry looked as though he understood what Neal was feeling and he was sad he couldn’t help. Then, his breathing hitched and suddenly went from ragged and viscous to non-existent. His eyes glazed over and were blank. Neal shook his shoulders and shouted, 

“HENRY! HEN-” but was cut short when the lifeless body of his strange acquaintance disappeared from beneath his very fingers. Stunned into silence, Neal rocked back on his heels and sat with his mouth hanging slightly open. What in the living hell just happened?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know this is a super short chapter, but this seemed like the most logical way to break up the events. The chapters are so short because I am changing chapters every time the perspective changes from Neal to Henry, there will be more to come soon!


	4. Chapter 4

Neal found himself sitting on the floor, legs splayed like a toddler, arms hanging slack at his sides as he tried and failed to comprehend what he had just witnessed. His mind raced from you’ve lost it, complete mental breakdown to who or what is this man and where in the hell did his body go? After a beat, Neal shook his head to clear the cobwebs and got to his feet. He knew he couldn’t stay here, he could not be in the shop when the cops arrived. He was just turning to leave when he heard steps from the backroom. 

“Henry? I heard a gunshot is everything ok?” an older man inquired upon entering the room. “What…? Hey who are you?” he questioned of Neal, but he just turned and ran from the shop, leaving the man shouting for him to stop and wait, come back. Neal ran as fast as his legs could carry him, not even slowing when the wind swept the hat right from his head. He was not far from home and he could feel the terror seeping in as he came to the realization that the world would never be the same. People on the street stepped from his path, some looked worried, others merely inconvenienced. When a mother covered her child’s eyes at his passing, he was confused and looked down at himself to see that his clean white shirt was stained with blood and his hands were dripping onto the sidewalk as he ran. His criminal past told him that this is no good, he needs to not bring attention to himself. He re-buttoned his suit coat and put his hands into his pockets, hiding a good amount of the blood, but he guessed that the damage had already been done.

Arriving at June’s building, he opened the door and unthinkingly left a bloody handprint on the door handle in his haste. Neal rushed up the stairs and once he was safely in his apartment, he shut and locked the door. Out of breath, he sat heavily on a kitchen chair, falling into disbelief. He put his head in his hands and focused on slowing his breathing. In and out, in and out, he repeated in his mind for several minutes until he was calm enough to look up.

“WHAT.” He said aloud, beginning the long process of thinking this thing through. Ok, so he dies and then he disappears. Is he still dead? No, how would he have moved if he was dead… He didn’t move, he VANISHED into thin air, right from beneath my fingertips. Neal thought as he paced around the house, Assuming I am not insane, what happened? He was shot in the chest at point blank range. Maybe he poisoned me, made me forget his escape. No… His mind raced at the possibilities and nothing was making sense. He stepped to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine, his shaking hands sloshing some over the edge and onto the counter. Neal slammed the first glass and promptly poured another. When he turned to the mantle and saw himself in the mirror, he nearly dropped his glass. His face and hair was caked in dried blood, mostly transferred from his hands by the look of it. I need a shower, get this blood off me and maybe it’ll be easier to think with all that warm water on my skin, he thought and promptly went into the bathroom, being careful to get a trash bag for his ruined bloody clothes.


End file.
